To Err is Human
by TdeAlba
Summary: John and Natalie cope with their mistakes in the aftermath of his accident. Fluffier than my usual stuff.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters and I'm not making any money off of this. Don't sue!

**Timeline:** Originally written 10 November 2006. Diverges with show continuity there but takes place after John's somewhat recovered from the accident.

* * *

As she approached his door she could feel her fight of flight instincts kicking in; her pulse sped up and the hair on her arms stood on end. She thought yet again about leaving—she could always mail it or have someone else give it to him… No, she told herself, after everything John had been through, the least she owed to him was doing this in person.

Taking a deep breath she knocked.

He answered and stared at her; confused by her presence. When he didn't say anything she handed him the box in her hand. "I wanted to give this back to you."

He took the box and opened it—looking at his mother's ring inside.

"Your mom gave it to me after we thought you'd…" She couldn't bring herself to say out loud that they thought he'd died, but she knew he understood what she was talking about. "She told me you told her you were planning to… Anyway things have changed and I figured you'd want it back." He still said nothing, the expression on his face unreadable. It didn't seem that long ago that she could look at him and instantly know what he was thinking—had the accident changed that or had her mistake? "Well," she said fighting back tears, "I guess I'll see you around."

As she started to turn he finally spoke. "Natalie." She stopped. "Don't you think maybe we should talk about this?"

She shook her head; she was going to bawl if she didn't get out of there soon. "John, I don't know what else there is to say. You can't forgive me for kissing Vincent and I'm not saying I blame you-"

"It wasn't the kiss," he interjected, "you know that. It was you lying to me after the fact."

"Right," she said looking at the floor so she wouldn't have to look at his eyes. Those blue eyes that always saw all the way down to her soul. Those eyes whose fire had been the key to bringing him back to her. She'd tried to explain and if he didn't understand before she saw no reason he would now, but she couldn't stop herself from trying again. "But John you were in the hospital wrapped head to toe in gauze having just barely survived a massive car accident. I'd just gotten you back—I didn't want to say anything that would upset you and risk jeopardizing your recovery. And silly me, I thought you of all people would understand hiding something from someone to keep them safe."

That last comment had been uncalled for and she knew it. If they ever had any hope of getting anywhere it was going to have to be by moving forward not by dredging up past mistakes. She looked up at him to find he was now looking at the floor; again he was silent. "Good-bye John."

He watched her start to walk away, actually grateful for the lingering stiffness in his muscles that was probably the only thing keeping him from reaching out to stop her. He'd told her to leave; the night before, he'd told her it was over. But if he was the one who'd made the decision, why did it hurt so bad?

He knew she was sorry, knew she never would have betrayed him deliberately. Knew that that kiss meant even less to her than Paul Cramer or tequila shots or any of the other things she'd used in the past to cover her pain. But that didn't get the picture of her kissing Vincent out of his imagination. On their rooftop. In their spot. While he lay wrapped in pain in a hospital bed trying desperately to get back to her… It didn't drive from his memory Vincent's words as he leaned over his body and recounted the pleasure of that kiss. As if he needed to be told how magical Natalie's kisses were…

She actually made it a few steps down the hallway this time before his words made her stop again. "How did you do it?"

She didn't turn this time. Closing her eyes in a futile attempt to keep the tears in she said, "I didn't mean to. I told you, I had this moment of insanity and I thought it was you."

"No," he said, "I'm sorry I meant after Statesville. After you found out what I did, that I lied to you… you forgave me. How did you do it?"

She turned around and took a step back towards him, brushing the tears from her eyes. "It took time," she said.

"Yeah," he nodded, "but I've learned over and over that you don't know how much time you have."

"That was actually part of it," she said. "You remember when you were in that plane crash and I was afraid you… All I could think was, what if you had died without knowing how I felt? And no matter what I wanted to feel, I still loved you and everything else just started to seem trivial next to that. It was actually Roxy who pointed out to me that I was making three people miserable when I had the chance to make two people really happy. It still took me a while after that, but that was what did it. Loving you got me past whatever you'd done."

He looked at her in silence again; well at least she could be grateful he wasn't looking at the floor this time. "I do, you know," he said after a moment.

She cringed at the words "I do;" she bit her lip wondering if he had deliberately chosen to use the words they would not be saying to each other. Could John possibly be that cruel? "Do what?" she asked.

"Love you," he said, "I do love you. I just… wanted to make sure you knew."

If she hadn't been so close to tears she might have laughed. Only John. Only John would finally decide to say the words she'd waited years to hear the night after he told her it was over. "I love you too John," she said, "so where does that get us?"

He stepped to the side, opening the door further. "Could you come inside? I'd rather not talk about this in the hallway."

As much as she wanted to run away right now she couldn't refuse him; she'd spent too many nights thinking she'd never hear his voice again to willingly decline the opportunity to talk with him. She stepped into the room grateful that Roxy had given up his old room. The one he was staying in now was smaller and John hadn't had time to fill it with clutter. More importantly, they'd never spent time there together so there were no memories, no attachments that would make this even harder.

He motioned for her to sit which she did in the one chair in the room. He sat on the end of the bed and looked at her. She wouldn't make eye contact and he could see a few streaks on her cheeks where the tears she was trying so hard to hold in had started to escape. Desperately he wanted to kiss those tears away, but he knew that wasn't what they needed right now. "I should have told you a long time ago," he said. "Maybe if I had…"

"John my kissing Vincent had nothing to do with not knowing how you felt about me," she said looking up at him, shocked that he could misinterpret her actions so wildly.

"I know," he said, "that's not what I mean it's… do you remember right after Jones came to town we ran into him one night, I think it was at Capricorn, and he and I kind of got into it and he said something to me about how if I wasn't careful someone would give you what you deserved."

"He was just trying to get under your skin, John," she said, "if there's anything Vincent Jones is good at its finding the one thing to say that will really get to a person." She knew that all too well; he'd managed to do it with her more times than she could count. And she hated him for having that power over her and even more for having it over John.

"Well it worked," he said, "it got to me. And it stuck with me. And when I heard him say that he'd kissed you that was all I could think about. As much as the thought of him with his hands on you made me sick-"

"Just for the record," she interjected, "his hands never got much of anywhere."

He smiled slightly and said, "I know, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was thinking about how he was right. I never _did_ give you what you deserved-"

"John-" she protested but stopped when he held up a hand. Hugging herself tightly she listened as he finished.

"It's just… I had a lot of time to think because I really couldn't do much else. And it occurred to me that I kept people so shut out that no one even recognized me. You, Bo, my own brother… you all stood right over me and believed I was another guy." He glanced up at her again; god she was beautiful. The memory of her face had made him fight his way back and looking at her now he realized that memory came no where near comparing with the real thing. If holding on to her had saved his life, how did he let her go now?

Staring back into his eyes, unable to look away, she began to grasp for the first time how much he was hurting and why. "John," she said, "I didn't want to believe you were gone. You can ask Bo, when he came to tell me I refused to believe it was possible. If Michael hadn't identified the body-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to have a talk with him about that one," John mumbled under his breath.

Natalie smiled slightly at his comment as she continued. "If I had thought for a moment that there was any possibility you were out there somewhere, you know I wouldn't have stopped looking for you. Never. And even when I went to see Hugh… I felt the connection, John. I didn't understand it and I actually felt guilty, because he wasn't you and it felt so much like being with you… so I shut it out. John, my brain knew you were dead and my eyes and ears weren't any help, but I think my heart _did_ recognize you. So you can't blame yourself-"

"But that doesn't change the fact that Jones was right," he said again, "you deserve better. You deserve a guy you don't have to wait around on, you deserve-"

"Do I deserve to be happy?" she asked; her jaw quivered slightly but her voice was firm.

He felt tears beginning to prick at his own eyes. "Since the day I met you that's always what I wanted for you. What I tried to make happen…"

Natalie stood up and took the two steps that would bring her to stand directly in front of him. Dropping to her knees at his feet and cupping his face so that she could force him to look at her she said, "You make me happy John. Being with you is what will make me happy—nothing else matters without that."

He felt short of breath suddenly and knew it was a combination of her words and the thrill of touching her again. Hesitantly he reached out and ran his hand over her hair, stopping with surprise when his hand brushed metal at the base of her neck. Pulling gently on the chain he lifted the St. Jude medal out from under her shirt, the fire damage still evident. "I think this is mine," he said in a voice even more hoarse than normal.

"Sorry," she said as she pulled it over her head without unclasping it, "Uncle Bo gave it to me when he came to tell me you… it was the only way they convinced me. I've kept it with me ever since. I guess it made me feel closer to you."

"I didn't need it anymore," he said taking the hand that held it in his own, "for the first time in a long time I felt like there might be hope for me. So I put it in the hand of a dying man because he needed it more."

Natalie rose up on her knees and carefully brought the chain down over John's head and let it rest once more around his neck. "Sometimes we all need help with the impossible."

She started to sit back down but he stopped her with a light brush of his hand on her cheek. Trembling slightly as she stared back at him she never let her eyes leave his as he tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears. "The accident took a lot away from me," he said, "including the chance to put this on your finger for the first time." She inhaled sharply when she realized that he was talking about the ring which was still in his hand. "I'm supposed to be the one on my knees right now," he continued, "but I'm not sure if I can."

"It's okay," she whispered.

He opened the box and took out the ring. "Natalie," he said, "I still think you deserve better, but I know by now how stubborn you are, so I don't see much hope for convincing you of that."

"Damn straight," she said and tried to smile through the tears that were flowing freely now.

"So," he said taking her hand, "if you're determined to settle for a guy like me, maybe you'd do me the honor of doing it as my wife."

She nodded and said, "Even when I thought I would never see you again I swore I would be yours forever. I meant it then and I mean it now. Yes John, of course I'll marry you."

He slid the ring onto her finger, surprised at how perfectly it fit and as he leaned down and kissed her he realized she'd been right; his love for her drowned out any mistakes, any hurt. In the end all that mattered was him and her and the chance that they finally had together. That saint he could feel resting against his skin had made the impossible happen one more time.

Fin.


End file.
